


Children of yesterday

by ShariDeschain



Series: The Graysons AU [2]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Kingdom Come (Comics), Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Dick is the best dad ever, Family Feels, Gen, Kingdom Come AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-08
Updated: 2017-08-08
Packaged: 2018-12-12 22:22:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11746380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShariDeschain/pseuds/ShariDeschain
Summary: The second time Damian wears the Nightwing costume, it’s because he’s angry at Bruce. Not that he’s ever going to say it out loud, but Jason doesn’t need him to. It takes him just one look to understand.





	Children of yesterday

**Author's Note:**

> Direct sequel of [For thine is the kingdom](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11235867).

The second time Damian wears the Nightwing costume, it’s because he’s angry at Bruce. Not that he’s ever going to say it out loud, but Jason doesn’t need him to. It takes him just one look to understand.

“Hiya, baby Wing”, he greets him when the boy lands right on top of one the thugs currently trying to kill him.

“Don’t call me that”, Damian grumbles under his breath while he moves on to take down the next criminal.

Jason snorts and lands a few punch of his own, having care to never leave Damian out of his peripheral vision.

“Thought you’d like it better than baby Bat, considering the change of theme.”

Damian doesn’t respond to the barb. He just lowers his brow and keeps beating the daylight out of Penguin's’ men. Which, in a way, is exactly the answers Jason knew he was going to get.

But well, beating the lowlife it’s cheaper than actual therapy and provides a useful service to the community, so Jason’s more than okay with it. He still keeps an eye on the kid anyway, because he knows that kind of mindset and the troubles that come with it. He’s never been the family’s favorite babysitter for the kids, but he’s not a bad one, despite what Dick says behind his back.

But fighting side by side with Damian all dressed up in the Nightwing gears is a few degree of weirdness above the usual, and Jason finds himself distracted more than once. He has to put up with a few lame punches that otherwise would’ve never find their target, and yet he still keeps studying the new Nightwing’s performance.

The fighting style is so recklessly Damian it would be impossible to mistake him for anyone else. The cold precision of his movements, the silent and once-upon-a-time lethal fury, they’re all Damian’s traits, but the kid’s making an effort in throwing in a few acrobatics pieces that are unmistakingly Nightwing’s signature. There is so much more, though. The meticulousness of the beating is all Bruce, for example. The controlled sequence of punches in all the right places, the way he uses every surface and every shadows to his advantage. Jason looks at him and sees a much younger version of himself training in the cave, Bruce looming over him, the sweet smell of Alfred’s cooking in the air.

“Hood!”

There’s a knife in Damian’s hand. And there’s a thug with a broken arm at Jason’s feet.

“I had that under control, kiddo”, Jason lies lazily. “But thank you anyway, it’s so sweet to know you care.”

“I’ll stab you myself if you don’t focus on the fight”, Damian promises with a snarl, and Jason laughs because no, he will not, and they both know that. 

It’s funny to think that Damian was a lot more of a threat when he was a scrawny ten years old who barely reached Jason’s elbow than he is now, at eighteen, not yet taller or thicker than him, but definitely on his way to (although Jason’s still cradling the hope for Damian to get just a little bit taller than Dick and still be shorter than him, because that would be what perfection looks like in his book).

Anyway, on any other night Jason would’ve replied to the kid’s threat with something along the line of _“both of your daddies would be so very upset to hear that”_ , but obviously tonight’s not the right time to push that issue. Not if Jason wants to avoid a black eye and a long conversation about daddy issues where he has to be the reasonable party and not the angry one.

Besides, he’s not sure he could be of help even if he tried. Jason’s never asked too many question about Dick and Bruce’s arrangement about Damian’s parentage. He never felt the need to, and for the better part of the time, he was also in no position to ask anything. 

When Jason died he had a father, a grandfather and an older brother with a pregnant girlfriend. When he came back he had a father, a grandfather, an older brother, a sister in law, a niece and two little brothers, and one of said little brothers was also his older brother’s son. It was ridiculous and borderline shakespearian, and it amused him to no end. Still does, sometimes, especially during Christmas family dinners and such.

Jason takes care of another few thugs, then he leans against a wall and watches the new Nightwing in town doing his best to adjust the few remaining criminals’ bones in the most creative way he can think. He should probably tell him to take it a bit easier, but a bad night is a bad night, and it’s not like he’s in the right position to scold anyone about using violence as a stress relief.

But once all men are on the ground, Damian’s shoulders slump down, and the kid’s stance suddenly looks defeated, even if he’s standing in the middle of an alley littered with moaning enemies. 

So Jason sighs and pushes himself up. Walking towards him, he wraps an arm around Damian’s shoulders and pulls the kid closer to him and away from the thugs.

“Celebratory beer?”, he proposes.

He’s rewarded with a sideway smirk under the familiar blue domino mask.

“You would give alcohol to an underage vigilante, Hood?”

“Well, what kind of fun older brother would I be if I did not buy my little brother his first beer?”, Jason smiles back.

“The kind of fun older brother who would think that it’d be my first beer”, Damian retorts. “You’re worse than Bruce, honestly.”

“Oh, so he’s _Bruce_ now? That bad, uh?”, Jason teases. “Well, at least he’s not _Wayne_ yet, so if you want my professional opinion, I think there’s still hope.”

Damian elbows him in the ribs but Jason can tell he’s biting down another grin.

“Shut up.”

He doesn’t add anything and Jason doesn’t push. He’s never been one for touchy-feelings conversations and his family knows that. He ruffles the kid’s hair, then moves away.

“C’mon, brat, I’ll give you a ride home.”

Damian shakes his head at his offer.

“I’ll keep patrolling.”

Jason doesn’t know if he wants to sigh or frown at the idea. It’s not like Damian’s never patrolled alone before - far from it, actually - but it still feels like he has to say something about it. He just can’t decide what. So he keeps it simple.

“Damian.”

But the kid’s already taking out his grappling hook and only spares him a quick, stubborn glance.

“It’s fine.”

“Sure.”

They stare at each other for a moment, and Jason finds himself relenting almost immediately. He smiles behind his mask and waves his hand to motion for the kid to move on.

“You’re welcome, by the way”, Damian taunts before vanishing up in the dark.

Jason scoffs and fishes out a phone from his back pocket.

“Hey”, he starts conversationally, without giving the other the time to put in even a _hello?_. “Just wanted to let you know I spotted a wild Nightwing running around Gotham. Looked a little bit like you, but way, way younger and good looking. Know anyone who may fit the description?”

*

Dick knew since the exact moment he and Kory signed up Damian’s adoption papers that this conversation was not going to be a one time thing. 

They talked about it before the adoption was finalized, and they talked about it after, and then again when Bruce came back. They talked about it during sleepless nights and tiring days, over too excited family dinners and boring patrols. They talked about it with Damian and Mar’i, with Tim and Barbara, Cassandra and Stephanie, with Bruce and Alfred, and even with Talia Al Ghul. And every time he talked about it, Dick felt like he had burning stones settled in his guts.

Tonight is no exception, of course.

When this thing started, he had no idea this is how it would’ve ended. Wouldn’t have believed it, if someone had told him. 

When Bruce died and Damian came crashing into their lives, he was living in Blüdhaven with Kory and Mar’i. They had a house and friends and a good, long-established routine. They were happy, Dick remembers that. Moving back to Gotham was a sacrifice he didn’t do light-heartedly. Took a month for him to even start considering it. And when he did, he had to face Damian, this ten years old child who had just lost everything, living alone with Alfred in the empty shell of what it used to be his father’s house, and Dick just couldn’t bear it. So he took him in, because it was the right thing to do, and as a reward for his good action the first few weeks in the new house had been pure hell. Alfred did his best to keep everything together, but Dick was suffering, Mar’i was heartbroken, Damian was angry, Kory didn’t know what to do, and they were all mourning. On top of that the kids kept fighting and screaming at each other and Dick had lost his patience more than once.

That was the worst thing. Not bearing Bruce’s unwanted legacy, not training a new, arrogant, insufferable Robin, not even having to put up again with a city he thought he’d left behind, but seeing his family so broken. The fights with Tim, Cassandra’s absence, Barbara’s distance, Jason’s criminal rampage, Mar’i and Damian hating each other and being very vocal about it.

In retrospect, Dick really doesn’t know how he survived it. How they all survived to the anger and the blame and the constant suffering. And yet, he thinks now, smiling at Gotham’s cloudy sky, in the end they managed to do it oh so well.

He still remembers the first time he realized that things were finally starting to change for the better. It was maybe a few months after they moved to Gotham, he was pulling a late shift at the police station, working on a double homicide case, and he’d received a text from Kory. It was a photo, and at first he only saw the caption: two red heart emojis. Which, coming from Koriand’r, could mean anything, Dick had mused. But when he opened it, he found himself staring in surprise at two kids, one laying on his back, in a kind of funny, familiar soldier-like position, the other sprawled on top of the first one, face smushed into his shoulder, both deep asleep. Afterwards Dick had to admit that it took him a moment to recognize Damian and Mar’i (something Kory had found so, so funny).

It’s a good memory, one of his most treasured ones. He keeps it in mind now, while he swings from one building to another towards the coordinates Jason gave him. 

*

He finds Damian on top of an old building, very close to where their penthouse used to be. It’s still a weird feeling, seeing him wearing his old costume, but overall it’s not an unpleasant one.

Dick lands on the roof with his usual quietness, but he doesn’t bother with hiding his presence. He knows Damian’s already spotted him.

“I have a joke”, he greets him then. “Two Nightwings walk into a bar, the bartender says-”

“Are you angry?”, Damian asks.

“No, that’s not how the joke goes.”

Damian huffs and reaches out to the back of his head to pull up a hood that’s not there. When he realizes his mistake Damian clenches his hands into fists before dropping them down on his lap. Dick’s heart hurts a little.

He sits beside him on the edge of the roof and bumps him with his shoulder to let him know that it’s okay, that angry is the last thing he would ever be, and Damian seems to understand the message well enough, but still refuses to look up at him.

“How does the joke go, then?”

“No idea. I didn’t come up with a punchline because I was counting on you interrupting me right away.”

Damian snorts and his feature softens in a way that Dick still finds heart-clenching, even after all these years. While he doesn’t mind doing it, he hates that he still has to reassure Damian that he’s loved - always, always loved - and that one burst of anger (because apparently they’re not allowed to call them _tantrums_ anymore) is not going to change anything, not ever. Not for Dick, not for Bruce, not for anyone.

“You’re a ridiculous man.”

“Well, you’re a very serious kid”, Dick replies. “I have to compensate.”

Damian hums like he’s humoring him, and raises his head to stare at Gotham’s skyline. Dick doesn’t push him, but he reaches out to briefly rub a hand against the kid’s back in a silent invitation.

“Sometimes”, Damian starts, voice soft but steady. “I feel like he’s relieved when we go back to the cave to change after patrol and I leave to come home to you. And sometimes I feel like he’s angry at me for not staying, for- for _betraying_ him like this.”

Dick sucks a breath between his teeth.

“Damian, you never betrayed him.”

“I did”, Damian objects. “I betrayed my mother for him, and I betrayed him for you. What does that say about me?”

“That you still have trouble understanding how this family thing works, kiddo.”

Damian frowns and for a moment Dick really believes that this time the kid’s going to listen to him. To, at least, take in consideration the idea that there’s no foul play here, that family is not an army or a political party. But he senses the defeat even before he sees Damian shaking his head.

“I made a choice”, the kid states. “And it was mine, not Father’s, and not yours or Kory’s.”

Dick remembers it differently.

He remembers coming back home two days after Bruce’s return from the dead to find Damian’s stuff packed and his bags piled up by the front door. He remembers hearing Mar’i cry and Damian refusing to answer her questions, the sound of skin hitting skin and his daughter flying away from them when he entered the living room.

He remembers Damian looking up at him, right cheek still red from Mar’i’s slap.

“He’s my father.”

And it sounded like a question, so Dick answered.

“So am I.”

It hurt to see the grimace on Damian’s face, it hurt even more when the boy licked his lips and looked away before speaking.

“It’s- that’s not the same thing.”

Damian was eleven by then. And Dick knew that all his reasons could not overthrow a decade of Al Ghul’s convictions about legacies and bloodlines. So he reached out and pulled Damian to his chest, hugged him close, kissed the top oh his head.

“You don’t have to choose”, he murmured into the boy’s hair. “No one will ever ask you to choose, Damian. Not me and not Bruce. And whatever you decide to do, no one will get angry. I promise you that.”

It was obvious that Damian didn’t believe him in the slightest. And in a dark corner of his mind Dick had thought that the kid was expecting not only a choice, but also the resulting punishment, and he just couldn’t shake off the idea that Damian was choosing Bruce because he’d expect a worse punishment from him than from Dick.

It angered him, but he was ready to let Damian go anyway. Because he felt guilty towards Bruce, because he felt like it was not his place, not his choice. But then Damian had tightened his fists, pushed himself closer to Dick and without even looking up, he had asked him a question.

“Then can I stay?”

That whisper had hurt him then, and it keeps hurting him everytime he thinks about it, because Damian never asked it again, not in words, but Dick can still hear it sometimes. Knows that Kory can hear it too. He hears it again tonight, underneath everything else, and he shuts his eyes close, inhaling and breathing out Gotham’s cold air with a sigh.

“It was your choice”, Dick agrees. “ _And_ Bruce’s. _And_ mine and Kory’s. Kiddo, believe me, if we didn’t all agree that it was the best thing for you, then our arrangement would’ve been different, you know that.”

And at the time there had been indeed a lot of discussions about other viable options. But what Dick remembers better than anything else, was Bruce sitting at his desk, features unreadable as ever as he examined the adoption papers, his fingers hovering over Damian’s name and Dick’s signature, like he was looking for the right clues to piece together a story of which he only knew the ending. Like they were one of his cases to be solved and not just his family.

His mouth suddenly feels dry, so Dick swallows, then reaches out for Damian’s hand before continuing.

“And I know how Bruce gets. I know that sometimes it feels like that whatever you do is not good enough for him, that you disappoint him in every little things. But believe this too: even if that’s the case, and not only your insecurity getting the best of you, then that’s Bruce’s problem, not yours”, Dick explains softly. “As long as you do your best, as long as you feel like you’re doing what’s right for you, then other people's expectations are nothing more than a suggestion, something you have to decide for yourself whether to accept or ignore. That’s especially true if we are talking about parents, both biological _and_ adoptive. We don’t always know best, you know?”

Damian makes a snorting noise but doesn’t pound in on that like he usually would. For someone who was born with a destiny and a carefully planned life, it’s confusing to be told that there is no great scheme, that life is not a war to be won. Dick understands that.

“You planning on keeping that suit for yourself or you prefer keep stealing it every now and then?”, he asks then, to lighten the mood. “Because I don’t mind either way, but replacing the locks every night could become annoying.”

“I’ll fix them”, Damian mutters. “Sorry”, he adds then, as an afterthought.

“You didn’t answer me”, Dick points out.

“Are you really only asking about your suit”, Damian muses. “Or are you asking me if I’m ditching Robin?”

Dick stretches his arms, clasps his hands behind his head and lays down on his back against the cold concrete of the roof. It takes Damian less than a minute to let out an exasperated sigh and follow his example. Dick smiles and closes his eyes again.

“I’m not going to tell you what to do, kiddo”, he answers when he feels Damian’s head resting against his arm. “Just that I’m going to be proud of you whatever you decide to do.”

And this time, at least, Damian doesn’t question his words or the feeling behind it.

 

**Author's Note:**

> This is so self indulgent I want to cry. Also backstories! Backstories everywhere! *screams*  
> I’m telling you, the world building of this AU really got out of hand. I have already a flashback fic about that picture of Damian and Mar’i and several others fics in mind. I so did not plan for this. But yeah, whatever, I guess I’m committed now. I’m happy to have pulled Jason on board, I’d like to do the same with the entire family. We’ll see.  
> I’m [on tumblr](https://unavenged-robin.tumblr.com/) if you want to come and say hi.


End file.
